Chapter Six: The Hall of Literary Excellence

No matter how much reluctance he felt in his heart, Li Kong did not dare defy Li Shimin’s decree—not when it could cost him his head.

Beneath the rising morning sun, Li Kong rode a tall steed, swaying slightly as he made his way toward the Academy of Letters. At his side, Li Fu incessantly recited the academy’s rules and customs.

Truth be told, Li Kong did not loathe the Academy of Letters as much as he’d expected. Though it was filled with nothing but pampered sons and daughters of princes and princesses, it remained the most coveted institution for all scholars in the empire—a place akin to the Central Party School of later generations. Every founding hero of the Tang dynasty would go to any length to send their children here to gain prestige.

The Academy of Letters was situated on the eastern outskirts of the imperial city, a vast and completely enclosed complex. There was only one entrance—the main gate; no other way in or out. As for climbing the wall? The seven-meter-tall barrier would teach anyone the meaning of despair.

Whether in memory or in reality, this was Li Kong’s first step into this place. No matter how formidable Li Ji had been, he never had the privilege to send Li Kong here, especially since Li Kong was merely a concubine’s son.

Thus, for a newcomer, everything was fresh and novel.

Standing within the academy’s confines, Li Kong dismissed Li Fu, tidied his attire, and prepared to enter. But just then, a startled cry sounded behind him, and he felt a heavy shove. The next moment, the dull thud of someone hitting the ground reached his ears.

Turning around, he saw a little girl, no more than six or seven, rubbing her head, her cheeks flushed—a picture of endearing innocence.

He watched her with interest. Although the Song dynasty’s strict separation of men and women had not yet taken hold, the traditional idea that men and women should not touch was already deeply ingrained. So, Li Kong thought: it wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her up, but he simply couldn’t.

After a moment, a boy of about ten came running over, out of breath. He planted his hands on his knees and gasped, “Princess, why are you running? Am I really that scary?”

Li Kong was not surprised to hear the boy address the girl as “Princess.” In this place, princes and princesses were everywhere; nothing unusual about a princess appearing.

The little girl puffed up angrily and stood. “Zhangsun Chong, if you chase me again, I’ll tell Father, and he’ll have you flogged!”

Zhangsun Chong? The eldest son of Zhangsun Wuji?

Li Kong’s curiosity was piqued. If Zhangsun Chong was here, could this little girl before him be the famed and gentle beauty—Princess Changle, Li Lizhi?

In his previous life, while delving into Tang dynasty history, he had always felt a sense of pity for several princesses of Taizong’s reign: Princess Changle, Princess Jinyang, and Princess Chengyang. Except for Princess Jinyang, who inherited Empress Zhangsun’s asthma and died young, the other two met tragic ends, their beauty and grace wasted by unfortunate marriages.

He also felt sympathy for Princess Gaoyang—a lively and cheerful girl, married off to the simple-minded and brawny Fang Yiai. It was hardly surprising she would stray, though Li Kong never approved of such things.

However, at this time, Princess Jinyang and Princess Chengyang had yet to be born. With his own unexpected arrival, who could say what the future held? For now, he chose to focus on the lovely girl before him.

Zhangsun Chong blushed furiously at Li Lizhi’s words. As her cousin, his affection for her was no secret; even Li Shimin had considered marrying Li Lizhi to him, though the idea had not yet been realized.

But if Princess Changle truly went to complain to Li Shimin, Zhangsun Chong would know the true meaning of regret.

“All right, all right, I won’t chase you again. I’ll go to class first. You… I’m leaving!” Zhangsun Chong yielded.

Watching him flee, Li Lizhi smiled with pursed lips, then suddenly turned her gaze to Li Kong. “Who are you? Why haven’t I seen you before?”

Li Kong smiled. In fact, he had seen Li Lizhi before—right after she was born, when he was seven or eight. At that time, Li Shimin was still Prince of Qin, and as the son of the grand strategist Xu Maogong, visiting the prince’s residence was nothing unusual. No one would think twice about a child of his age entering the inner quarters.

But as he grew older, such privileges disappeared. This was only his second encounter with Li Lizhi.

“My name is Li Kong. Today is my first day here. I hope Your Highness will look after me.”

“Li Kong? I don’t know you. I’m off—class is about to start. If I’m late, the teacher will cane my palms!” Li Lizhi tilted her head, thought for a moment, then hurried off toward the classroom, displaying none of the gentle grace for which she was known in the histories. Li Kong couldn’t help but wonder if he’d studied the wrong version of Tang history.

The Academy of Letters began classes at the hour of the dragon, precisely nine in the morning. Judging by the sun, it was just past the third quarter of the mao hour—class would start in no more than fifteen minutes.

As a newcomer, Li Kong hastened his steps.

The classroom was neither large nor small, but densely packed with dozens of low desks, each barely thirty centimeters high. Behind each sat a soft blanket, clearly meant for kneeling.

Choosing an obviously unwanted spot at the back, he hesitated—should he just stand?

But when his knees touched the blanket, he felt, for the first time, how blissful it had been to sit on chairs in his past life.

The classroom was almost full now. Aside from Zhangsun Chong and Li Lizhi, he recognized no one, nor did he care to.

Still, his arrival drew some attention. Several curious and respectful glances came his way; it was clear that those few recognized him.

Rummaging through his memories, he realized those boys were Cheng Chumo, son of Cheng Yaojin; Du Gou, from Du Ruhui’s family; Fang Yi’ai and Fang Yizhi, sons of Fang Xuanling; and Li Ke, third son of Emperor Taizong.

Li Kong had had little to do with them before, but the scandal six months prior was so widely known that few in the city would not recognize him. None of these boys were easy to deal with, either—they certainly knew who he was, even if he knew only a few of them.

He couldn’t help it; as a concubine’s son, his predecessor had grown reclusive, shunning contact even with his own father, Li Ji, who spoke with him no more than ten times a year.

Lost in thought, Li Kong was jolted back to reality by a cough at the door. An elderly man, hair and beard completely white, stepped slowly onto the dais.